


Caught in a Dream

by rainftw



Series: Married at first sight [4]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempt at Humor, Dick Jokes, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainftw/pseuds/rainftw
Summary: The more time John spends at Roger's flat, the more Roger finds it reasonable for them to move in together. Especially when John leaves his stuff everywhere.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Series: Married at first sight [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855069
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	Caught in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!!!! im back, as per usual im not sure, thank u for clicking and enjoy the ride<3

It’s in the mornings when it hits Roger the hardest.

In the early sunrise when his muscles are still aching in the after-math of a show and his head is pounding from irresponsible alcohol consumption. When his mouth is dry enough to be classified as a fog desert and his ears are still ringing vaguely. That’s only naming a few of the plethora of unpleasant morning-related sensations Roger could come up with.

Waking up with a sore throat and realising you’ve left the window open, waking up with morning wood simultaneously as a desperately full bladder. Vile, sour morning breath. Dried drool down your chin. Having kicked your covers off and waking up colder than a man dipped in liquid nitrogen - you get the gist.

His newest addition to _uncomfortable wake-up sensations_ came in the form of a completely numb left arm. Shoulder to fingertips, completely dead to the world, from the substantial weight John’s head apparently put on it. Roger wasn’t about to complain about that one.

There were several disadvantages to waking up with someone in his bed. A freezing pair of feet pressed against his legs, frizzy hair in his face that didn’t belong to himself. Long, bony limbs pressing into uncomfortable places and the small gap in the duvet between them when they’d drifted apart during the night, letting _all_ the cold air in. If he was awfully unlucky, an elbow to the face would be the reason he was awake in the first place.

Yet, for some indescribable reason, it seemed to hit him the hardest in the mornings. In the dawning, when the good seemed to outweigh the bad with so much clarity they turned into undoubtable facts.

So he traced the knobs of John’s spine with the pads of his fingers and splayed them out in-between his ribs, simply to feel him breathe. Trapped one of John’s chronically cold feet in between his calves in an attempt to warm him up and pressed kisses to the nape of his neck. Listened as the little sighs and incoherent sleep-talking filled the spaces between even heartbeats, echoing through John’s ribcage and into Roger’s ear where it was pressed against his back.

He thought about it as he could feel John begin to stir awake, too. Feeling wickedly lucky that he got to hold onto John’s waist in attempts to stop the squirming and stroke his hair out of his face. Rubbing soothing patterns into his abdomen before John woke up enough to turn around to face him, that same hand now resting against the small of his back.

As John started to blink his eyes open, Roger thought about it more than ever. How much he wanted him to stay _permanently_. How badly he wanted to wake up just like this, every day.

“Hi.” John whispered, the breath that came with it tickled Roger’s throat in the best way imaginable.

“Mornin’ love.” Roger replied fondly, stroking John’s bangs out of his eyes and kissing his forehead tenderly.

John blinked sleepily up at Roger a couple of times, seeming to keep his eyes open from persistently heavy eyelids by sheer force of will. Roger smiled and leaned down to peck him on the lips, hugging him just that little bit tighter as John threw a leg around Roger’s hips, making them both shudder as their bare crotches aligned. Roger rolled his hips smoothly in response.

“M’ too tired.” John grumbled, while dropping his head to nip at Roger’s throat in complete contradiction.

Roger laughed breathily, grasping John’s hip in his hand and pressing their arousals together firmly, making John’s mouth go slack against Roger’s skin. Roger rolled his hips lazily a few more times, running his palm from John’s hip and over his thigh that was still slung over Roger’s body, hooking his hand in the crook of John’s knee to hike it up even further. Bringing them even closer together.

“Tha´s nice.” John drawled, kissing up the column of Roger’s throat, along his jaw and finally settling before his lips. Roger knew he must’ve looked like he was starving for it, if John’s grin was anything to go by.

“See something you like?” Roger teased, caressing the sensitive skin behind John’s knee in an attempt to rile him up.

It seemed to work wonders if the sudden thrust of John’s hips was any indication. Roger sure thought it was. “Shut up and - _ah, fuck._ ” John grunted as Roger had slid his hand up to massage his perineum while continuing their steady rocking together. The slide was slick, both of their bellies glistening with it as the pleasure grew steadily.

“You were saying what, babe?” Roger was aiming for fond-mockery again but found his voice came out sounding rather breathless, oh well.

John gulped, his Adams apple bobbing visibly, making Roger’s head spin slightly. “Kiss me and get me off.” John groaned impatiently, Roger couldn’t have denied him if his life depended on it.

In a movement so graceful Roger was almost certain he was going to have to brag about it later, he flipped them over so he had access to grind down onto John with intent. With John’s leg still hooked around his hip he ground down firmly, working them both up into a state of panting, desperate wrecks.

“Like that, baby?” Roger rasped out in between shuddering breaths, staring down at a flushed John who seemed to be glowing as the first rays of sunshine seeped through the blinds.

John nodded hurriedly, grasping onto Roger’s shoulders so hard he was sure they’d leave indents. “Yeah,” John exhaled shakily, running a hand up Roger’s neck and tangled it in the hair at the back of his neck. “C’mere.”

John tugged him down to join their lips in a frantic and extremely tongue-heavy kiss. John’s mouth was warm and wet, the dizzying act of sucking each other’s brains out through their mouths along with the sounds they were making went straight to Roger’s lower abdomen and lit the fire to the point of no return.

Roger couldn’t hold off for much longer after that. Rutting his hips into John’s so frantically his thighs were starting to ache and kissing him hurriedly enough to not care about their teeth clanking together, not even when John had giggled bashfully.

They came gasping into each other’s mouths like dry fish on land, Roger riding it out until they were both wincing from overstimulation as John pushed at Roger’s chest in an attempt to get him off. Roger rolled his hips one last time just to be a dick, watching as John’s cock twitched with interest while John himself wasn’t as amused and in a flurry he’d somehow gotten his heels on Roger’s pecs and was rocking him back and forth, threatening to kick him off. Roger had never heard as loud of a cackle come out of his own mouth before, which in turn got him exactly what he deserved as he found himself on the floor laughing not ten seconds later.

“You’re a dick!” John yelled, throwing a pillow his way. Roger clutched his stomach which was starting to cramp from holding his laughter. “That’s dick behaviour!” He continued, sitting up to glare down at Roger who was trying his utmost to keep it together.

John was combing his hair back with his fingers as he watched tears starting to roll down Roger’s face before he fell into another fit of roaring laughter. “Spit it out, Rog!” John exclaimed exasperated.

“I just-“ Roger snorted, wiping a tear from his cheek as John watched on with his arms folded over his chest. “Soft until provoked?” Roger finally stuttered out, eyes gleaming as he smirked up at John, who had seemingly gone into complete shock.

“I-“ John tried getting his words out, looking at Roger with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “I can’t fucking believe you Roger!” He stomped over and grabbed the pillow off the floor, smacking Roger across the head. “I thought I was dating a 21 year old and you’re, you’re-“ Roger continued giggling like a maniac behind his hand, John gave him another whack. “Acting like a bloody teenager!” He finished, situating himself beside Roger who was still laying on his back, trying to calm down.

John had eventually forgiven Roger and stroked his hair as he regained his breath while Roger had apologised for the dick joke when he walked John to the door.

“You’ll come back after class, yeah?” Roger asked, hopeful.

“Obviously.” John chuckled, grinning at Roger like it was a given.

Roger really wished for it to be as he sent John off with a kiss and a tap to the bum.

—

It’d arrived at the point where John was staying over more nights than not, stealing food out of Roger’s already sparse cupboards and helping him use up the hot water in the shower. In the rare moments, like today, where Roger was alone, he found himself missing having John there. Looking forward to the next time they’d be standing in his small kitchen making their tea hip to hip in underwear and massive sleep-shirts. Coming home from a gig to collapse in bed and get to press John close to his chest, or coming home high on adrenaline to find John squirming upon his lap.

He wanted it all, constantly, and he was so infuriatingly close to having it. He just had to gather the courage to ask.

He hummed under his breath as he poured steaming hot coffee into a cheap, and very chipped, mug. Then cursed as he opened the cupboard above the stovetop to find the sugar absolutely gone. His grocery bill would soar if they continued like this, all the more reason to ask his _boyfriend_ to move in with him.

Roger wandered around the store, absentmindedly grabbing that block of cheese he knew John liked so much as well as an extra carton of milk, which he couldn’t fathom how someone over the age of 10 was drinking _glasses_ of. Roger shook his head fondly to no one but himself as he sauntered over to the counter, pondering over how John was a strange boy whom Roger would gladly spend an extra few pence on calcium for.

It was raining when he exited the store, the _one time_ he’d actually went by foot, surely karma for all the times he’d taken his car the short distance instead of walking. The five minute drive somehow turning into a twenty minute walk and a sopping wet Roger stumbling through the threshold later.

He made quick work of stacking the groceries away in what he deemed to be their respective places before venturing into his bedroom to get rid of his dripping clothes. Cursing the jean-material of his trousers for sticking grossly to his legs as he quite literally had to peel a layer of skin off with them. They’d eventually come off with a disgusting squelch, leaving Roger on his back regaining his breath from the unnecessarily strenuous activity.

He laid there procrastinating for longer than he’d like to admit, partly because he was finally fucking comfortable again and partly because he was lazy. When he did manage to convince himself to sit up, he tossed the soiled clothes in the general direction of the laundry basket and walked over to his drawers praying, to no one in particular, that his favourite comfy t-shirt would miraculously be clean.

The first thing that caught his eye as he pulled one of the compartments open was a horrible yellow garment with, what seemed to be, a huge butterfly printed on it. Spontaneously he thought he ought to help John expand his wardrobe collection into something more akin to stylish. On second thought he reckoned it did look nice there, next to his own clothes.

He’d gotten lucky when he was over at John’s place for the first time, months ago, to find a large and comfortable hoodie amidst his clothes which seemed to consist of fitted and extremely fitted styles only. Roger could hardly blame him, if he had legs like that and long slender arms you’d best be sure he’d model around clothes the way John did so well.

It made it bloody hard to steal some lazing-about pieces though. Who doesn’t like to knick their boyfriend’s clothes? He glared at the open drawer and hastily pulled out one of his own jumpers.

It’d be so much easier if John just brought his whole life into Roger’s flat, wouldn’t it?

—

It’d been another month of sending John off to university with a kiss goodbye and a promise to get back afterwards, most days a week. Up until finals week when John wanted (rightfully so) to hole himself up in his own studio flat and cram as much knowledge into his brain as possible. Roger agreed he had a point when he’d said it’s easier to do so when you’re alone and undisturbed.

Even though he didn’t particularly like the idea, Roger had miraculously given in quite easily, with the permission to call John and check in on him at _least_ once a day.

It had been a long harsh drag of a week holed up in his flat, by himself. He’d managed though. Gone out with Freddie and Mary a couple of times, laughing until tears were running down his face as Freddie split his trousers on the dance floor. That had been a particularly good night.

He’d even went to have a jam session with Brian, which went surprisingly well as they came up with some new song ideas. Brian had a knack for lyrics which Roger was quite impressed by, though he’d never admit it.

All in all he’d absolutely survived a week without John, more than survived, in fact he’d had quite fun. Didn’t mean he wasn’t currently combing his hands through his freshly washed hair in anticipation for him to _finally_ come over again. A part of Roger felt an awful lot like John was coming _home_.

Still, Roger spent his time making himself look presentable. Fluffing up his hair a couple more times, because it couldn’t possibly hurt and he needed something to do with his hands. Satisfied with the freshly-shagged look of his hair, he threw on a loose white shirt, intentionally only buttoning it halfway. His thighs were suffocating in the leather pants he barely managed to struggle into, he figured it’d be worth it for the look on John’s face.

He’d drank little enough to still be mostly sober but enough to feel pleasantly relaxed and watched through the late night news on the television when he heard a knock.

He was up and at the door in record time, unlocking it and moving to pull the door-handle, before he’d even gotten the door open however, he’d gotten a full-body slam from John. He’d probably meant for it to be a hug but that’s formalities. Roger hurried to take a step back to steady them both as John clung to his body, letting Roger relish in his warmth.

“Roger!” John giggled, placing a kiss in the juncture of Roger’s neck and shoulder. “I think I aced it.” He exclaimed excitedly, looking up from his hiding place in Roger’s shirt and placed a sloppy, vodka flavoured kiss onto Roger’s lips.

Roger winced momentarily, liquor didn’t taste as good when you weren’t drunk yourself. He laced their fingers together nonetheless. “Knew you’d ace it babe.” He said, sincerely. John was one of the most intelligent people he knew, as in book-smart, he could be extremely daft emotionally.

John preened under the praise, his drunken flush darkening even more, dusting across his high cheekbones. “Missed you.” John said, very clearly for someone as uncoordinatedly drunk as he was. His speech was somehow still impeccable. “Couldn’t wait to get back.”

Roger’s heart leaped happily as he tightened his grip around John’s large hands. “I’m sure you had fun at the pub?” Roger couldn’t help but to tease, raising his eyebrows theatrically.

“Not as fun without you.” John hiccuped. “B’sides haven’t seen you all week.” He pouted, Roger’s heart broke and swelled a little at the same time, causing him some genuine chest pain.

“Because-“ Roger stepped away for a second to close the door behind them, coming back to John’s side to steer them towards his bedroom. “You’ve been a good boy and studied very hard.” Roger finished his sentence, plonking John onto the bed.

He stepped away to see John squirming at the edge of the bed, eyes locked onto Roger’s face. “Is it the leather pants or me calling you a good boy?” Roger questioned through a smirk, which only grew bigger the more John blushed.

“Must be the alcohol.” John answered, in a horrible attempt to deadpan as there was a smile on his face the whole time.

“Sure it is, angel, sure it is.” Roger murmured lowly as he stepped forward to stroke John’s hair behind his ear before tracing his thumb across his red-bitten bottom lip, pleased with himself when John shivered visibly.

“’S all of it.” John whined, wrapping his arms around Roger’s middle and pressing his face into the softest part of his tummy.

Roger tangled his fingers through John’s hair methodically. “The praise _and_ the trousers?” Roger asked, partly for clarification and partly to be a little bitch.

John sighed into the fabric of Roger’s shirt. “No s’ just _you_.”

Despite it being drunken ramblings, Roger couldn’t stop his chest from feeling tight with affection as he continued to massage John’s scalp and feeling his warm breaths against his stomach. The moonlight was streaming in through the window and John still fit in, perfectly as ever.

—

Roger naturally woke up with the first rays of sunshine as if drawn to them. The first thing he noticed was that he felt especially warm beneath the covers, something slung around his waist in a steady and comforting weight. Furthermore he found he was being _held_ , which was rare. He could get used to this too.

Early mornings where he was the one giving John a numb arm and having his hair tickling his face. Where he could press his awkwardly bony elbow into John’s equally skinny forearm and press his arse against John’s cock, speaking of, shame they're still clothed today.

It’s a bummer Roger seems to wake up first eighty five percent of the time as it’s hard to get out of bed unnoticed while wrapped up in another person. Especially when you’re the little spoon. Which, upon consideration, is probably why he was usually designated big spoon. That and he was unnaturally warm almost constantly and he made a good furnace for a freezing John.

Roger wiggled around as carefully as possible, to not disturb the sleeping (and probably awfully hungover) John, behind him. He gently took hold of John’s wrist and skilfully flopped himself around to face him, tracing his fingers over John’s face in familiar, soothing motions and finding that today wasn’t very different from other days. Not at all.

He was still happy to have John all up in and completely taking over his space. Making him a cup of tea and a slice of toast to place onto the nightstand for when he awakes. He usually didn’t make him breakfast, actually they _never_ made each other breakfast. Roger felt John deserved it though, just for today, for acing his finals and as a remedy for his hangover, but most of all for being everything Roger didn’t know he needed.

“Rog!” John yelled, making Roger startle as he was washing up the butterknife in the kitchen.

Roger dried his hands quickly and shouted a hasty “Coming!” before sauntering the few steps over to his room.

“What’s wrong?” Roger inquired as he inspected the room for possible intruders.

John shook his head and smiled tiredly. “Nothing.” There was a short pause in which John was beaming fondly at Roger while Roger questioned his motives. “That for me?” John asked, prompting his head towards the breakfast on the bedside table.

Roger nodded, suddenly feeling oddly shy about doing something that could be vaguely considered romantic. “Yeah, figured-“ Roger sat down next to John and stroked his cheek. “For your head.”

John stuck his tongue out. “Was I that bad?”

“Not at all.” Roger answered honestly and let the hand he was holding against John’s face slip down to the back of his neck, pulling him into a swift kiss. “You were positively delightful.”

John gave Roger another quick peck to the lips before reaching for the toast, which at this point was lukewarm, but it’s definitely the though that counts. “I should hope so.” John swallowed a mouthful. “Otherwise I’d feel terrible about getting this type of treatment.” He said half-jokingly around another piece of bread.

“Don’t get used to it, sweetheart.” Roger teased, though he knew he’d make John breakfast everyday for the rest of his life if that’s what John wanted. Although that was a secret he was going to keep to himself, because well, he’d _rather not_. But if that’s something John wanted, he _would_.

“Shame.” John drawled, finishing his tea in five impressively large gulps. “Was thinking about moving in.”

Roger spluttered.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry for the dick jokes and the ambiguous open ending, what do u think went thru rogers stupid brain  
> (i can assure john was moved in not later than a week after)
> 
> thanks for reading!<3


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